Never Regret Thy Fall
by RoseMuse
Summary: FMA drabbles from various characters' points of view. Main pairings. -retitled-
1. Nights

So. My first time writing anything FMA.

Anyway. I have a few drabbles in the works, and I hope to post more, soon. ^^

* * *

Although several years had passed, nights were still always… long. Alphonse had measured them out exactly.

Ed would bid him good night, and then pass out in bed. (Seriously, his brother could fall asleep within seconds - and sleep anywhere, for that matter.)

Alphonse preferred to sit by the window.

At about midnight, people would finally begin turning in for the night, lights fading from windows, one by one, and then some of the last drunk stragglers would stumble home along the sidewalks, below.

The earliest hours - two to three - were the quietest - the moon moved slowly across the star-filled, deep blue sky, casting shadows through the window across the wooden floors.

At times, it felt as though he were the only living being in the world.

Sometimes, to fill the silence, he would read books - on alchemy, different sciences, biographies, histories, or just stories. He supposed he might as well make use of the time.

He'd gotten in a lot of reading within the past three years.

At about four-thirty, the birds outside began chirping, and he would listen to the ticking of the clock as the minutes inched closer to five a.m.

About that time, he'd hear the distant barking of dogs, and he would, with practiced precision, flip through another page of his book with a glove finger - not really reading, now.

Then he'd hear the revving of car engines in the street, and half-heard bits of laughter or loud conversations, and the creaking and slamming of doors down the hallway of apartments they were staying in.

Ed would stir in his sleep - sprawled out on his stomach beneath his tangled sheets, and maybe mumble something unintelligible, his normal arm hanging over the side of the bed.

The shops across the street would begin opening, and children could be seen running up the streets, bags in tow, trying to make it to school on time.

Ed would then wake up at some point during this time, groggy and complaining about not getting enough sleep, and that his mattress was too uncomfortable.

He'd tie his messy hair back into a plait without bothering to comb it, and throw on his jacket and slacks, and say something along the lines of "Well, what should we grab for breakfast, today, Al?" (Although they both knew only one of them was really capable of eating said breakfast.)

Alphonse would finally stand up, working the slightly creaky joint of his left knee, and if he could have, he would have smiled. "'Morning, Brother."

Ed was almost a master of reading his emotions, now, though, and he would smile back - gold eyes full of determination.

"Good morning to you, too, Bro."


	2. Delirious

Ed would never admit it, but he kind of (sort of) liked that starry-eyed look that Winry would get when she talked about automail and mechanics.

She'd go off, muttering about gears and different metallic alloys, and joints and leverage, which was pretty exasperating, but… that look of pure joy in those blue eyes… It was something that he'd kind of missed seeing. So, he simply sat, and watched her talk.

Throwing in an occasional "Gearhead."

(Just for good measure, you know.)


	3. Silence

_A bit of Royai! Meh. I'm sorry if it's a bit boring - I'm not quite sure why, exactly, but I've had a bit of a difficult time getting comfortable with writing FMA and the characters. (Although I'd really love to write more!) I apologize for any typos, as well. X(_

* * *

**Silence:**

Promptly at 1800 hours, Lieutenant Hawkeye settled the last of her papers neatly atop the outbox stack, placed her pen upon her desk, and gathered up her jacket and things. Black Hayate, who had been dozing near her desk, stood and yawned, the tags on his collar jingling.

The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky above the horizon of the city, glimmering softly through the window.

Most had already gotten off of their shifts or left for dinner, with the exception of Master Sergeant Fuery, who was tinkering away in the corner at his radio - relaying a message to Captain Moretti, and Second Lieutenant Havoc, who seemed to be intently focused upon his work, (surprisingly), an unlit cigarette between his teeth and typing away at sums on a comptograph, ticker tape clicking noisily.

Colonel Mustang, who had been sitting, pen poised over the same piece of paper for half an hour, (complete with absent expression), glanced up, raising his brows questioningly at her, seemingly asking, "Are you going for dinner?"

Hawkeye gave him a blank stare - the equivalent of, "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Of course, he would then claim he'd have nothing better to do and accompany her to the cafeteria, so she stopped him with a frown, glancing at the unfinished piles of paperwork next to him.

A petulant expression formed on his face, but she narrowed her eyes and his features changed to a slightly nervous one.

After a moment, he looked at her inquiringly - she knew he would be coming in to work early tomorrow. Perhaps he could finish the paperwork then?

She sighed acquiescingly and he stood triumphantly, following her as she strode out of the office with Hayate.

Just before exiting, however, she turned to face him with a death glare, _If that paperwork isn't finished by tomorrow morning, there WILL be hell to pay, Colonel._

Mustang nodded, waving a hand placatingly. Of course he'd get it done.

They then continued on their way, although he did roll his eyes behind her back.

Havoc and Fuery merely ignored the two. They'd grown quite used to the behavior between their commanding officer and the Lieutenant.

No words were needed.


	4. Autumn

Al nervously hoped she had gotten the correct information as to which train station they would arrive at. His Xingese was pretty awful, and many of the passers-by were watching them inquisitively - three outlandish-looking men standing on a concrete platform surrounded by suitcases. (He'd almost been pick-pocketed, twice, while on the way from Shiwei, and Zampano's wallet had gone missing two days ago.)

Aside from the familiar smell of farms and pastures, (it wasn't all that different from Risembool), there was a crisp, cool feeling in the air. August was ending and soon the marketplaces would be bustling with freshly-harvested fruits and vegetables - the Moon Festival was supposed to be a few weeks away. Al vaguely wondered what sort of cuisine the Chang clan would serve.

The distant cough of a motor caught his attention, and an old automobile puttered up to the station - the sort of model that was used before the war.

Maybe it was her?

He absent-mindedly scrubbed a hand through his short, blonde hair and glanced back at his two companions - Jerso leaning expectantly forward from where he'd been resting against the wall.

A dour-looking Xingese man in a suit exited the vehicle, which then rumbled away, and hurried over to the ticket booth, shooting them glares as he argued over something about prices with the teller in a loud Southern Yuan accent.

Nope. Wasn't her.

They sat for another half-hour - slapping at mosquitoes and half-dozing beneath the shade of the building's newly-tiled roof.

Al was really beginning to suspect they'd gotten the wrong station - when a hay wagon slowly rolled up.

At first he didn't pay it much heed, but a girl in a dark pink jacket shouted his name and jumped down from the seat next to the driver - and then proceeded to dash up the platform steps to bowl him over with a hug.

She pulled back after a moment, silk rustling, allowing a small, cat-sized panda to nudge beneath his arm and gnaw affectionately at his hand.

The girl attempted to brush away the tears brimming in her eyes. She'd grown taller and a little slimmer - not to mention very pretty.

"It's… it's really good to see you, again, Alphonse." She said with a wobbly smile.

He grinned and hugged her back. "It's good to see you, again, too, Mei."


	5. Commit

_Ever since I started my college classes, my creativity has kind of taken a nosedive. I apologize for any typos or screwy grammar. :\_

* * *

"What the hell, Winry?" he was yelling from the front porch. And rubbing at his forehead where her well-aimed spanner had struck him.

"Damn it, Ed! I _always_ tell you to call - and you just come waltzing back here after a year and a half with your leg busted up!" Winry folded her arms and glared down at the young man from where she stood on the deck. "No warning, no appointment and… Ugh! What is _wrong_ with you?"

Winry sighed, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes. She'd only gotten to bed three hours ago - it was nine-o-clock, now. She no longer charged Ed, really, but, at the moment, she was seriously considering doing so.

In all honesty she was pretty happy to see him - even if his arrivals were always obnoxiously abrupt. The only contact they'd really had consisted of the occasional letter or phone call. He didn't appear to have changed much - other than being somewhat taller than she'd remembered. He still had the same smirky grin, same short temper… She'd really missed him.

That he was arriving this early in the morning probably meant that he'd taken a night train and hadn't gotten much sleep, either.

"Fine." She growled tiredly, "Come on in. I'll get some coffee going. And pick up my wrench, will you?"

Ed made his way to the door, being sure to carefully step around Den as best as he could, who, after a short bout of excited barking when Ed had arrived, decided to curl back up to sleep on the steps. The old dog was used to their arguing.

Winry shuffled downstairs to the kitchen where she met him, plonking down two mugs and rummaging through the cupboards for the old percolator.

"I took the train from Thasos last night - went through Pendleton at about six. It was a pretty damn tiring trip - had to sit next to a bunch of noisy new Amestrian army recruits. Anyway, where's the old hag?" Ed yawned, setting aside his suitcases and throwing his jacket over the side of a chair and sitting down.

"Oh, Gran's still asleep. I don't know how the old lady can keep pulling all-nighters at her age." Winry snorted, heating up the stove. "By the way, we got a letter from Al a few days ago. He says he's doing all right - still studying and training with Mei. I don't think he realizes it, but he's constantly going on and on about her in his letters. He's definitely got a crush on the girl."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Glad to hear he's studying and training, at least."

"I think it's kind of cute." Winry laughed. "It's been nice hearing from him - he usually sends letters every couple of weeks. It wouldn't have hurt if you'd sent a few more letters, Ed. I… I really kind of missed you, a lot." She met his eyes - he'd been watching her with a strange sort of expression, but he immediately reverted to his default grumpy frown.

"Yeah, well, I was pretty busy. There was that time I was sick for a week after eating at this crappy café, and I got stuck in this old village for a few days and wound up taking the wrong train, and I got lost in the city and then I had a run-in with the Cretan mafia, and then… and…" he trailed off as the look on her face grew more and more concerned.

"You didn't tell me about any of that!"

"Like I said, I didn't have a lot of time to really come up with too many letters.", he retorted.

Winry rolled up her sleeves huffily, "Oh, just shut up. While we're waiting on the coffee, let's take a look at that leg."

The inner gears were completely shot, and the outer plating had disappeared, somehow. In addition, it had a horrific amount of denting and scratching.

"What on earth did you do to my automail?" Winry shouted, and Ed winced. "How do you always manage to get it so beat up? You had an excuse a few years ago, but this… This is ridiculous!"

"Wait! Winry!" Ed held up a hand while the other delved into his jacket pocket. He brought out a small box.

"Earrings? Don't," Winry began, taking the box and opening it, "think you can persuade me so easily, again, Edward El-" She paused and blinked as she noticed just what it was she was holding.

Ed was blushing furiously - still frowning, "So. Uh. Remember when I left? What we talked about at the station? I… didn't really, er, go about doing it properly, then, did I?"


	6. Sneer

_Just felt an odd sort of need to write something Kimblee-ish? D: I have no idea._

_

* * *

_

There was something deliciously… _thrilling_, feeling the reverberations move through the ground, coalescing in blooms of red and orange clouds of light and clattering, flying chunks of white-washed stone and clanking debris. The tattooed markings upon his bare palms burned comfortingly, and he couldn't help but allow the corner of his mouth to twitch upwards at the sound of distant coughs and shrieks and sobs at the other end of the result of his handiwork. It was no fun if they all died immediately, you know.

From where he stood atop the city wall, he was untouchable. Omnipotent. He was a _god_.


	7. Death

_Haha, I'm actually quite a fan of OT3 (Ling/Lanfan/Greed) but this just popped into my head one day, and it had to be written? There are a few things about it that are a bit off, I think._

* * *

It had been a long, quiet sort of trip, although it felt comforting to be around familiar scenery, again - lush forests, cool, misty mornings, terraced rice fields and the sense of _chi _permeating through the very earth.

They had returned the young lady, Mistress Chang to her home in the foothills of the Western mountains. Lanfan had, surprisingly, found her company to be a bit more enjoyable than she'd anticipated - she was a kind, sweet, funny girl (if a bit unrealistically romantic, at times) and her family had been very generous to her and the Young Master during their brief stay at their home.

During their stay, they received the news that the Emperor had passed away. Respects were paid, as due, but that was about the extent of their mourning.

The Young Master formally extended an open invitation to Mistress Chang to visit the palace whenever she pleased, (when he took his rightful place as emperor, anyway.)

Although their hearts had been lightened by the company, they began to grow a bit heavy again as they made their way south. Even Master Ling, who was so typically optimistic, seemed rather quiet and caught up in his thoughts. (Which was something that worried her greatly, as he tended to confide in her at all opportunities.)

She would find him brooding, at times, over the Philosopher's Stone - if that's what the cursed thing could be called - liquid and ruby-red, resting within the tiny phial. She refused to touch it, herself - there were too many painful energies emanating from it.

One night, as they sat, watching the moon rise across a valley, he admitted to her that he'd simply use it to secure his place on the throne - to secure the safety of the Yao Clan (as well as the other clans) - but he did not intend it for any other purpose.

"I don't think I'd be happy living beyond what a normal human being should live." He had admitted, "Besides, I think the Stone would be better used towards helping others, healing… No one man alone should keep such a thing for themselves - no matter how greedy they are." He'd laughed.

Their travels had changed them - and had changed something between them, as well.

They were both very respectful of each others' privacy while camping, (although they spent most of their travels staying in separate rooms at inns along the way), but something in the way he looked at her made her flush even more than usual, and made her enormously grateful for the mask she wore. It was something akin to affection, and… it wasn't her place to hope for such things, but, possibly, love.

While she didn't make her feelings known, (at least, as far as she was aware), she'd certainly grown much closer to the Young Master, and become even more fiercely protective of him. He was all she had, now.

Her grandfather had been cremated before their departure from Amestris - and his urn was currently, very carefully, packed away in the saddlebags of her horse.

When they finally reached the Yao lands, the afternoon light cast gray slanted shadows of the narrow, craggy Southern mountains across the flat, green farmland. (She found herself feeling glad for the tempered metal of her automail - otherwise, it would have begun rusting already in this climate.)

Master Ling was greeted very respectfully by the servants. Word had been sent ahead of them that he would be arriving, shortly, and they had prepared a veritable feast for him (and she was always most welcome to dine, as well.)

In spite of his tiredness, Master Ling had been ecstatic about the prospect for a moment, but, then stopped, face growing serious. He glanced at Lanfan, and then told the servants to keep the food warm for a while, as he had a few matters of business to attend to.

"We must show our respects to the deceased, first and foremost." He insisted, and Lanfan slowly nodded in agreement - although he was truly being too kind.

Their families shared plots, so it was simply a short walk down the road through the softly dappled light of bamboo groves.

Soon, her grandfather was sharing a place next to her grandmother.

The two of them, wearing white scarves, lit incense and offered their prayers. For the first time in many, many weeks… Lanfan let more of her emotions show. She hadn't really considered mourning, or crying - her main objective had been to return the Young Master safely to his home. But, somehow, the weight of a lifetime of memories finally became too heavy for her to bear.

She'd thought she was hiding her tears well, until the Young Master gently placed an arm around her shoulders and drew her near.

"I… miss him too, Lanfan." he said, quietly, and they both held each other close, each crying into the other's shoulder.

They pulled away after a little while - a bit embarrassedly - but she was glad for his company and comfort.

"We had best be getting back, now, Young Master." Lanfan stated, drying her eyes surreptitiously.

"Wait." he said, "There is still one more person we need to say goodbye to."

Lanfan understood immediately.

They lit two more sticks of incense.

He surprised her by reaching out and grasping her right hand. She pushed away her initial instinct of shying away, and, instead, wove her fingers through his.

"…Thank you, Lanfan." the Young Master murmured. "It… really means a lot. We can never forget Greed's friendship."

She squeezed his hand more tightly, "It will not be forgotten, Young Master."

After a moment, he spoke up, again, "You know, you can just call me Ling. All of this formality and the statuses between houses is… tiresome."

Lanfan blushed, "Ling.", she whispered.

And they embraced again in the quiet afternoon light.


	8. Call

The phone was ringing. Colonel Mustang halted his process of skimming through a stack of reports and wearily picked up the receiver. "Hughes, how many times have I told you…" he muttered automatically, expecting to hear the energetic and overly-cheerful voice of the Lieutenant Colonel loudly talking over his words.

Instead, he was greeted by the voice of a slightly confused secretary who needed information on an earlier report.

After he had found the report, relayed the details and hung up, he frowned and stared out the window.

Maes Hughes was a Brigadier General, now, and he found himself wishing, for the rest of that quiet afternoon, that the phone would ring again and prove that fact otherwise.


	9. Rain

_Haha, it seems I've just been in the mood to write a lot more, recently? I was sort of inspired to write this due to it being rainy and chilly out, all day._

* * *

The storms rolled in. Rumbling, gray billows of cloud, spanning across the skies.

In Central, life continued on, even after the chaos of two weeks before. Tires splashed through puddles, the scent of exhaust permeating the air, and people hurried along beneath slick umbrellas - reflecting the light of streetlamps flickering on in the early evening.

Lieutenant Hawkeye stood on the steps to her apartment building, Black Hayate huddling close to her legs. She pulled at the collar of her jacket where the rain was beginning to drip down. She smiled, saluting her superior officer as he lingered at the sidewalk beneath his own umbrella.

"I'll be sure to report in as soon as I arrive. It will be nice to work at Eastern HQ, again, I must admit."

Colonel Mustang had that familiar, stubborn smirk upon his face as he nodded.

"And, Colonel, thank you for helping me to pack and move, today. Although it wasn't very necessary, it is appreciated." She said a bit awkwardly.

It was silent for a moment, neither one really wanting to go their own separate ways just yet.

Then, in an instant, Mustang had crossed the short stretch of steps between them and swiftly kissed her upon the cheek. Then he made his way back to his waiting car as she stared, bringing her hand up to touch the side of her face with cold fingertips. He waved and laughed, "I expect to see you on Monday, Lieutenant."

* * *

That morning, he had managed to procure two pairs of packhorses, along with enough supplies to last them well beyond the desert.

However, they were, for the moment, briefly stranded in Youswell at the newly-built inn due to a sudden freak thunderstorm. To be honest, though, he was a bit impatient to get going - especially if they planned to beat the harsh afternoon heat that would inevitably follow when they were miles into the sand dunes.

Ling returned from the stables in the faint early morning light, running for the shelter of the overhanging inn roof, away from the pelting rain.

Lanfan and the Chang girl were asleep at one of the dining benches, sharing a heavy coat as a blanket. The younger girl's head slipped down from Lanfan's right shoulder and into the crook of her elbow. Lanfan stirred, black strands of her bangs obscuring her eyes, before she settled back into slumber, again.

They both looked so peaceful and calm… Perhaps they could wait for a little while, yet.

* * *

Snow dusted the distant mountain-tops of Risembool. Winry settled deeper into the chair and wrapped her hands around her steaming mug of tea for warmth, listening to the drops pattering against the windows and the eaves.

Ed lay sprawled upon the couch, boredly staring out the window, while Al curled up in another chair, immersed in a thick book.

However, both boys kept shooting furtive glances towards the kitchen. Winry simply pretended not to notice, and sipped at her mint tea. "How about another game of cards?" She asked.

"Meh." Ed simply replied with a yawn. "Well… I wouldn't mind. I guess." Al shrugged, peeking over the top of the book.

Just then, however, a faint buzzing from the oven timer sounded from the adjoining room and Ed and Al jumped into alertness. Winry sighed and stood, "Jeez, you two. The pie is done, now, but don't blame me if you go burning your tongues without waiting for it to cool!"

"Thanks, Winry!" "Yeah, thanks!" The brothers made a mad dash for the doorway, arguing over who would get the first slice, while Winry followed.

Somehow, she felt comforted by it all.

So she smiled and hurried after them, "Hey, don't forget to save me a piece!"

With the two of them there, it felt like home.


	10. Beauty

_Hawkeye in Ishval._

* * *

Sometimes, on cool nights, she would remove herself from the noise of crowds and sharp firelight and people drinking their feelings away. Heavy combat boots crunching against the hard-packed, dry soil. Her rifle slung over her shoulder, bumping gently at her back.

The desert was windy, and the skies in Ishval were the clearest she had ever seen - at least, when there wasn't any smoke or dust from an attack.

She really didn't feel like thinking, much. All she knew was that she was tired, and the endless days were beginning to pile one atop another. Somehow, though, she hadn't lost count of those killed by her bullets.

She would sit at the edge of camp, and watch as the stars appeared, one by one, in pairs and clusters, until they dusted the sky, and - just for a moment - she could imagine away everything upon the earth below. All that existed were those tiny points of light in a sea of quiet, deep blue.

And she wished it could go on forever.


	11. Truth

_Just felt like writing something a little more on the surreal side? Idk._

* * *

The being in front of Ed was speaking - or rather the not-being? It was like looking at a reflection comprised of nothingness. Everything in his mind screamed at him that something like this shouldn't exist. But it did.

There were creakings and whisperings behind him, and the open gateway - behind which was an endless blackness that held nothing of the pale emptiness upon this side, but seemed to be full of watchful things and voices and wind and everything the universe contained.

He could almost see a smile where the not-being's (Truth, as it called itself?) face should be.

"Welcome, ignorant fool." it said in his voice.

Cold hands made of the Everything grabbed at him - dozens, hundreds? So cold that they burned. All pulling him into the other side of the gate, into the watchfulness, into a vast eye, and they were laughing and murmuring and he couldn't comprehend any of it.

For a split second, he wondered if he'd gone crazy. Maybe that was what was happening. Still, the claws and fingers tugged him back, no matter how much he resisted. He yelled, screamed. Vainly reached for help from the Nothingness and Truth.

"Be quiet." It said. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

And he was sinking away.

"I'll show you true knowledge."


	12. Early

_Ugh. This is kind of... super, super cheesy and horrible. I may re-write this, eventually?_

_Anyway._

_Set during the years between the Elric bros return to Resembool and them leaving to travel/the train station scene. I've written a few too many drabbles from Ed's POV, sorry. ^^; In some of my future fics I really hope to focus more on the absolutely awesome ladies of FMA._

* * *

Ed was curled up on the couch next to the dim light of a lamp - absent-mindedly allowing his blanket to slip to the floor as he flipped through another page of experimental alchemical arrays with metallic bases.

However, the creaking of stairs caught his attention, along with Winry's voice.

"Morning, Ed." She said she entered the room. "I woke up a little earlier than usual. I couldn't really sleep."

"Yeah. Me either." Ed held up his book, "Decided I'd come down here to catch up on some reading."

"I was thinking of going over to Frank's workshop by the depot to pick up some supplies… Do you want to come along?" She asked glancing at him with those bright blue eyes as she tied her straw-colored hair back into a ponytail.

"Um. Okay." Ed shrugged, tearing his eyes away from her - and pretending that he hadn't been staring.

He quickly pulled on a jacket and followed her outside into the early morning light.

They raced down the dirt road, kicking up dust, breath misting on the air and their laughter echoing in the stillness. After a bit, they resorted to walking again. Not really talking, but simply just listening to the far-off whickering of a horse and the chirping of meadowlarks.

Winry shivered, rubbing her hands together, "I was in such a hurry to go, I didn't think about how chilly it would be out here." She grinned sheepishly, plucking at the short sleeves of her shirt.

"Ah, fine." Ed rolled his eyes with mock annoyance, "You can use my jacket." He removed it and threw it about her shoulders.

"Oh, how generous of you, Ed." Winry snorted, elbowing him lightly. After a moment, though, she grasped his hand. "Thanks."

"Yeah." He replied as casually as he could in spite of his heart rate increasing, practically, to the speed of a freight train. "Hey, Winry?" He asked.

"What is it?" She looked over at him with a smile.

"Uh." His mouth went dry and he found himself staring off into the opposite direction over a hillside of wheat. "You… You know, there's a shortcut here." He really couldn't bring himself to say what he'd intended. He mentally kicked himself.

"Oh, right!" Winry nodded, although she glanced at him a bit dubiously.

They cut across the field, still hand-in-hand, and stopped to rest, briefly, beneath a gnarled, old tree. He knew he had to tell her.

She was walking on, again, when he halted her, tugging at her hand.

"Winry!"

She turned, "Yes?"

"Nothing." He mumbled, feeling even worse, now. He waved a hand. "Nothing important."

Winry sighed and frowned impatiently, "Jeez, Ed! What is it?"

The silence between them only made him freeze up more. She was looking straight at him with a tiny frown. A faint breeze stirred her hair.

Finally, Ed leaned forward to place his lips upon hers. …And she didn't pull away.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, embracing him closely.

Her lips were soft and she tasted like toothpaste. Hesitantly, he placed his hands on her waist. Their noses bumped a bit awkwardly, but he didn't really care.

Their lips drew apart after a little while, though they were still holding each other. They rested their foreheads together.

"Winry." He said seriously, taking a deep breath. "I think I… love you."

She had closed her eyes contentedly, but opened them, again, after a moment. "I love you, too, Ed."

They were silent for a bit before Winry spoke up, again.

"Hey, Ed?"

"Yeah?"

She drew him closer for another kiss.


	13. Fun

_I like to think that Winry probably went back to Rush Valley to finish her apprenticeship/work while the brothers were on their travels. Just a silly sort of drabble._

_

* * *

_

"W-where is my wrench?" Winry bumped her nose on the rim of her mug as she took another sip.

Paninya laughed loudly, clapping her on the back a bit too forcefully. "I'm not as drunk as you are. So you're the one paying."

"Hey." Winry pouted, "Just because I got a raise doesn't mean I'm helping you out from now on."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Paninya burbled into her own beer. "Anyway, I hear Garfiel's got a friend over, tonight. So you might wanna crash at my place. Consider it repayment."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that." They finished their drinks and Winry rummaged through the pocket of her coveralls and paid the bartender with a few, somewhat crumpled, bills. The two then tiredly made their way outside the place, skirting a group of raucous miners.

"We should visit the LeCoultes." Paninya said thoughtfully, staring up at the stars.

"At this hour?" Winry stared incredulously at the other young woman and they both broke into a fit of giggles.

"Y'know," Winry went on, "I'm glad I've got a friend like you."

Paninya grinned, "Aw, really? Me too."

"Yeah." Winry said. "But you're still paying next time."


	14. Wait

Her elbows rested upon the kitchen table. The boys were asleep upstairs and the gray light outside was slowly fading to purple. She watched as flakes of snow swept past the glass window panes, past the checkered, gingham curtains.

Perhaps it was foolish. Pinako had tried to put it into better words - but Trisha still wondered if foolish was, perhaps, the only way to say it. Still, she had known from the start and she would wait. No matter how long.

The bare branches of the tree outside creaked with the oncoming winter storm, a layer of snow on the seat of the swing.

Yes. She would wait.


	15. Instrument

_I'm sorry if there are any total inaccuracies with things. D:_

_

* * *

_

It was early spring. While it rarely rained in the desert, it was impossible to predict the weather during the early months of the year - when torrential downpours could leave troops stranded for days.

It came at the worst of times during the middle of a skirmish.

Major Roy Mustang slogged his way through the flooding walkways of the camp, listening to the nearby sounds of gunfire (now dying down, somewhat) and wondering, vaguely, if the Ishvalans planned to wait out the rain, as well.

He was admitted into the largest tent at the end of the way. A squat man with beady eyes and graying mutton-chops sat at a desk, poring over a map. He looked up as Roy entered.

Roy gave him a brief salute. "Colonel Gilliard, sir! I take it we are going to put a hold on any action for the time being?"

Gilliard twisted his mouth into a half smile. He looked tired. "I've just sent out the orders to continue, actually, Major. It seems the higher-ups want this area of Daliha cleared by the end of the week. It may or may not work, but an attack in the rain could catch the Ishvalans off guard and buy us some time."

Roy nodded. He should have expected as much. "Understood. As for any action I may take, I regret to inform you that I cannot be of any use in this particular attack."

Gilliard squinted at him, "Why is that, Major Mustang?"

Roy removed his gloves from his coat pockets. "The type of alchemy I specialize in requires dry conditions. I won't be able to create a chemical reaction if the agents come into contact with water."

"I see." Gilliard leaned back in his chair and scratched at his chin. "You can still be of use to us, Major. Hmm. I'll have Laurent and a few others escort you to the site. Don't worry about the rain."

Just what the man was getting at?

"Uh. Very well, sir." Roy was too exhausted to question his superior officer's orders. He followed Laurent and four other men out into the deluge. The man was a stoic sort who never really talked much.

"Where are we going, exactly?" Roy asked rather curiously. However, his escort remained unresponsive.

They made their way into the empty area of the town, heading deeper into the narrow, winding streets. Thunder rumbled overhead. It was most likely safer here, away from the central conflict, but they remained on their guard, anyway, in case there were any stragglers.

Soon, they came to an abandoned synagogue, half blown apart on one side. Laurent knocked upon the wooden molding of the main doors, face still set in his trademark grim line.

The doors shuddered open and an older, haggard-looking man wearing spectacles appeared.

His eyes looked dead.

The older man regarded him emotionlessly before speaking in a gravely voice, "So, you're the Flame Alchemist, eh? Major Roy Mustang?"

"That is correct. …And you are?" Roy asked.

"This is Doctor Julian Knox." Laruent interrupted. "Colonel Gilliard will have you working with him occasionally."

"Very well, then." Roy muttered. He extended a hand to the man. "Pleasure to meet you, Doctor."

Knox stared at his hand for a moment, before turning without accepting and going back indoors. "I wouldn't be too pleased if I were you." He said.

Roy came to understand this by the sight, and smell, he was greeted with as he entered.


	16. Happiness

"You… are amazing." Ed murmured quietly into her hair.

A memory surfaced from the back of his mind of a time, years ago. They were both teenagers, traveling along with Al through Rush Valley for the first time. During a horrible storm, Winry had bravely taken on the job of impromptu midwife for a mechanic's wife who had gone into labor early.

She had done beautifully - even the doctor, who arrived later, had commended her on her work. The family had been so happy. (Even that grumpy-ass grandpa, Mr. Dominic, who wouldn't take Winry on as his apprentice.)

They had all crowded around the tiny new life - smiling and laughing and feeling just… joy and a sense of awe. (Although, as he recalled, Winry had scolded him when he'd excitedly ranted about the creation of human life and how it pertained to his own profession of alchemy.)

Returning to reality, he saw Winry smile softly, and somewhat tiredly, at him - but her blue eyes were sparkling. "Here, Ed. Don't you want to hold your son?" she asked, cradling the infant in her arms.

"Um." Was all he could manage to get out, but he scooted closer to her bed and held out his arms, anyway - a bit nervously - and accepted the small, (slightly heavier than he'd expected) warm bundle.

His own son. _Their_ son. He remembered the look on that mechanic's face - and vaguely wondered if his currently looked the same. (There was NO way in hell he was going to break down in tears, though! Absolutely no way. And if he was blinking a lot that was only because he was sitting near the window and the sun was in his eyes.)

The baby began fussing a bit, and Ed suddenly worried that he was holding him incorrectly, but he quieted down after a moment.

He was so _small_ and had thin wisps of blonde hair, and he could already see some similarities to the two of them.

Ed glanced over at his wife - Winry looked positively overjoyed - and he grinned at her.

"This is… he is…" he searched fervently for the right words to describe how he felt - which was not exactly an easy feat, for him.

He kissed the boy's forehead and then kissed Winry, grasping her hand.

"_I'm really happy._"


	17. Bittersweet

Sig walks past the spare room where the Elric Brothers are staying and comes to a sudden halt.

He hears Izumi's voice, gruff, as she tucks the two boys in. "Remember, you're up at six and you have to help with breakfast, understood? We've got a busy day, tomorrow." It is followed by a softer, "Good night, you two."

"Okay." The younger brother, Al, mumbles sleepily. "G'night, Mom- I mean Teacher."

After a moment, Izumi makes her way out into the hall. Very quietly.

Sig merely holds her close and she squeezes him back tightly.


	18. Bleach

From what Mei had been told, the old route was quicker. She skirted Xerxes, following the stars by night and getting what sleep she could in the shade of dunes by day.

It had been almost a week and she'd already run out of her supplies. Xiao Mei clung limply to her shoulder and she trudged through the sand, lips cracked, and she could faintly imagine the dark mass of a town, wavering on the horizon, always out of reach.

One evening, she tripped on a rock and tumbled down the side of a hill, Xiao Mei yelping out a startled growl.

Mei rolled over onto her back with a groan, her hands stinging from scrapes.

Half-buried in the soil of the gully, directly next to her, was a ribcage and something that definitely resembled a human skull.

She recoiled, scrambling back a bit, before standing up and wiping the dust from her clothing. She frowned at the remains.

One thing was for certain: She was not going to allow herself to die out here. She was not going to leave her bones to bleach in the hot desert sun.

Mei bit her lip, tasting her own salty blood, and clambered out of the gully, Xiao Mei in tow.

She was the seventeenth princess of Xing. She held this responsibility and she wasn't going to die until she personally saw it done.

She resolutely walked on into the night.


	19. Survive

_First time writing Olivier. Sorry if it's a bit sloppy!_

* * *

The woman flashed the heavy steel blade in the direction of the soldier. "It is not my rule or my judgment that keeps this place running, Soldier."

The man's adam's apple bobbed beneath his fur collar, "Yes, sir!"

Her unyielding eyes regarded him, staring directly into his own. "And what rule is that?"

"S-survival of the fittest?" He replied.

"Indeed. But you cannot survive if you have no understanding of what that means, here. Why did you become a soldier?" Her blue eyes flashed.

He shrugged a bit uncertainly, "Well… to protect my country, and to protect my family, I suppose."

"One cannot get by on mere suppositions, you know. If you choose this path, and if you wish to protect your country and your family, then you stick to it. Live for it for all you are worth. That is what it means to survive." She smiled, sheathing her rapier and turning to face of the icy wind atop the Wall. "The "sticking-to-it" bit is what makes you fit."


	20. Correspondence

_Elric bros silliness._

* * *

"She's gonna think it's weird, isn't she?" Ed muttered.

If Al could have rolled his eyes, he would have. His older brother was pacing back and forth between the front desk and the main entrance of their hotel. The bellhop and the clerks were beginning to give them odd looks. (Well, more than they had, already.) (As would anyone who caught sight of the (short) boy in a violent red coat being followed around by a hulking figure in a suit of armor.)

"I'm just going to do it." Ed grimaced at the small envelope in his hands.

"That's the sixth time you've said that, now, Brother." Al sighed. "Do you want me to do it for you?"

"NO!" Ed yelped. "I can do it!"

"There's nothing wrong with sending a holiday card to Winry and Granny. I don't think they would see it as being weird at all." Al reasoned. "What are you so worried about anyway?"

"I'm not worried!" Ed retorted. "We hardly ever send letters, y'know? It just seems… unusual to be sending something now."

"It was your idea in the first place." Al pointed out.

"Yeah, so what? It was an impulsive decision!"

"Just send the letter, Brother. I'm sure they'd love to hear from us!"

"You're right." He made an odd snarling noise. "Ugh. Why does sending a simple card have to be so damn complicated?"

"You're the only one making it complicated." Al said very, very quietly.

"What was that?" Ed frowned and eyed his brother.

"Nothing, nothing." Al waved his hands placatingly.

"Okay. I'll send it."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Now you're just messing with me, aren't you?"

Ed marched up to the desk and gave it to the clerk for the post box.

"That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" Al asked with a smirky tone.

"Shut up, Al."


	21. Connection

_Winry's POV. Set directly before the Promised Day, when Ed, GreedLing, Darius and Heinkel meet up at the Rockbell residence._

* * *

The tension in the air is palpable, but Ed barely stirs as he sits back and she disconnects the wiring of his arm, his face unusually grave.

It's odd - they've usually been so much more comfortable, before. But, now, he can't even meet her eyes. Wordlessly, Winry continues and hopes that this rift - if that is what it could be called - won't grow.

She should probably replace his arm soon, she thinks. Or, at least in another month or two. (Though, for once, she's afraid of thinking too far ahead.) All she can do is adjust it, for now. The metal gleams in the lamp light. His shoulders are wider, and his left arm longer, and she can't seem to keep up with the pace he is changing at.

Stitch marks and a new, ugly, pink scar track along the left side of his abdomen - a matching stretch of scar tissue on his back. Inwardly she winces, breath hitching as she considers the damage and what could have caused such an injury - and she wonders if this is partly the reason as to why he's been missing for months.

Winry pushes it all away.

Instead, she finishes unscrewing the bolts from the deltoid area and talks of her own journey. Of Liore and the sections of the town being rebuilt, and the people working together.

Ed shoots her a grateful glance. Glad for her voice filling the silence? Or more, perhaps, for her own silence over certain things?

Maybe, someday, he will be able to tell her.


	22. Masks

_Set post-Promised Day._

* * *

It was a more subdued affair. There were no parades, though there was a formal evening inaugural gala.

The newly-appointed Fuhrer Grumman had personally invited Colonel Roy Mustang and his subordinates (who had recently been transferred back to East HQ), along with many others who had been involved in the uprising. Also attending were various diplomats and benefactors.

Thankfully, the party itself seemed lively enough to make up for the subdued nature of it all - most people simply wanted to enjoy themselves.

A jazz band played at one end of the wide lawn. Breda and Havoc had immediately made a beeline for the open bar beneath the pavilion, dragging poor Fuery along with them.

Riza had half a mind to join them - she could use a drink - and she couldn't quite admit to herself just how nervous she felt.

In spite of his rank, the Colonel was now considered among the more superior officers - he practically had to fend off the crowd of those wishing to speak with him. He didn't seem to mind the attention all that much, though, Riza noted wryly. She was glad he was gaining more notoriety. He would soon be working his way up through the ranks at a quick pace.

Rebecca had left her to dance with a handsome, blonde officer, and Riza was now stuck talking with several dry, old ministers about the dissolution of some former parties. She didn't really mind the political talk, but, at the moment, she was more concerned about the Colonel's current political path.

As if reading her thoughts, he suddenly appeared at her side, nursing an empty martini glass. "Excuse me, gentlemen." Roy said in his most smarmingly charming tone of voice, "May I borrow my lieutenant from you for a moment? I need to speak with her."

Riza cordially nodded to the ministers before following the Colonel. She quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you were busy enjoying yourself among your admirers, Sir."

"To an extent, but I much prefer the company of my subordinates." He said, staring into his glass as if suddenly noticing it was empty.

"Hmm. I don't know whether to take that as flattery or as a sign that you're a bit inebriated." Riza smirked. "How did you manage to get away from them, then?"

Roy shrugged nonchalantly, "I have my ways." He then added after a moment, "It mostly involved a quick escape."

He directed his gaze to her, his dark eyes betraying him. "I must say, Lieutenant, that you look positively radiant, tonight."

She briefly glanced down at her emerald, high-necked evening dress. It had been picked out with the help of Rebecca. She laughed lightly to cover the sudden butterflies in her stomach.

"I'm quite sure you've had too much, Colonel."

After a moment, he nodded, chuckling self-deprecatingly - though it masked more than they both were willing to say. "Perhaps you're right." He set aside the glass and held out a hand to her, "Still, I wouldn't mind, er, taking a quick respite from my 'admirers'. Would you do me the honor of a dance or two?"

Sighing in (somewhat) mock exasperation, she took his hand. "I suppose I have no choice, then." However, Riza couldn't help but hide a smile as they swept away toward the music.


	23. Beginnings

_(Set prior to the Ishval War.) Just to make it clear, I see Roy as very much devoted to Riza and not anyone else. He often feigns the 'ladies man' image. I think, at this moment, he doesn't quite trust Hughes yet - though he comes to during the war - so Hughes isn't quite aware of Roy's past or his goals._

_Sorry for any inaccuracies or typos._

* * *

He shifted in his seat, stirring aimlessly at his cottage pie and peas with his fork, his other hand scribbling away at notes next to him upon the table. He hadn't quite slept well the night before and his mind had continued racing throughout the day as he made his way about the academy.

Roy started when he heard his name being called. Glancing up, he found Maes Hughes standing there, looking at him quizzically over the rims of his wire-frame glasses.

"You all right, Roy?" He asked, sliding into the spot across from him with his dinner tray. "It's nice to see you're back from leave, but you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm not entirely sure if I have or not." Roy said wryly. "I… I'd heard that my old alchemy tutor's health was failing. He died during my visit and I saw to some of the arrangements for his funeral and such."

Hughes grimaced, "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"I can't say I was incredibly close to the man." Roy shrugged, "But I wouldn't be where I am now if it hadn't been for him and his daughter. Aside from her, he had no other relations, really, so I did what I thought would be appropriate." He resumed staring at his food, thinking on all of the things that had so suddenly changed.

"I'm thinking of applying for the next state alchemy exam." He went on, "It's a quick way to work up to Major, and I know that I'm capable of using my master's techniques, now. Maybe this alchemy can do some good."

"I admire your ambition." Hughes half-smiled, "As for myself… Well." He leaned in closer, "From what I hear, the higher-ups are definitely planning on putting a stop to the growing Ishvalan rebellion. I might be transferred soon and shipped out to the front lines. It seems they're discharging a growing number of Ishvalan recruits and personnel, too - saying that their presence in our army would be 'disruptive' and that their heritage designates them as suspicious individuals and conspirators."

Hughes stabbed at his dinner with his fork, "I think it's a load of bullshit."

"Yeah. So much for equality." Roy sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face, now more worries than just the notes at his side on his mind.

"Anyway." Hughes dug into his meal, talking around the food in his mouth, "Before I go, I'm definitely gonna find a girl. Maybe in Central. Boyd keeps trying to set me up with his sister, but I'm just not feeling any sparks, you know?"

Roy chuckled. Sometimes he wondered how he'd managed to become friends with the man. Sure, he was glad for someone who shared his same ideals, but sometimes he could be a tad insufferable.

"Say, Roy, you don't happen to have anyone back home, do you?" Hughes asked innocuously.

"What? Me?" Roy laughed out loud, though it sounded hollow, "Can't say I have much of a home to go back to, and, honestly, why stick with one when you can have them all? That's what I say."

Hughes raised a brow, "Really? I thought I had you pegged as a one-woman sort of guy. Not to worry, though!" He grinned, jabbing his fork at Roy's nose, "We'll find you a real dream of a girl and then I can say that I proved you wrong!"

Roy coughed on his pie, "Hm. Good luck with that."


	24. Brave

_Not terribly satisfied with this fic. I kind of want to explore more of the friendship between Winry and Mei - as we barely got to see any of it!_

_(Set just after the Briggs arc.)_

* * *

"I'm sorry I called you a hussy, earlier." Mei said suddenly, struggling to keep up with their quick pace through the snow, breath clouding in tiny white puffs. "What you did back there… I think you're really brave. I-I'm also sorry about Scar and your parents."

Winry kept her face carefully blank, glancing down at the top of the younger girl's head as they walked. She couldn't help but wonder just how desperate a _princess_ would have to be to fall in with this particular lot, (all of which were, essentially, fugitives on the run.) Her clan definitely meant a great deal to her.

She decided to put on a smile. "Don't worry yourself over it. …And thank you. You're pretty brave yourself, you know."

Mei looked up, returning her smile with a small one of her own.


	25. Morning

_Just feeling a bit gloomy with the autumn weather lately and wrote this out_.

* * *

There are certain mornings when Riza awakens from some hazy, dark dream mingled with memories, and drags herself out of bed, that she doesn't feel anything at all.

It is infinitely worse than waking up and feeling sadness, though.

Because she feels nothing as she plugs in the electric coffee percolator, or as she takes Hayate out for his early morning walk in the still-quiet, frozen city streets, breath frosting in the air.

Nor as she brushes her hair and twists it up with her tortoiseshell clip, powders her nose and applies other cosmetics to draw attention away from the dark circles beneath her eyes.

She feels frustration, at least, as she pulls on her uniform, checking that the lapel pins are in place, at the dull feeling and at the gloomy autumn clouds. (Which herald a long-lasting storm.)

As she heads toward the HQ offices, she reminds herself, fiercely, that, in spite of what she does or does not feel, she has a purpose and a mission to carry out, and people who rely upon her.

And, sometimes, the knowledge of that helps her get through the day.


	26. Flowers

_(Set post-manga) (1915)_

Her furniture and other items had already been shipped from Central (Most boxes hadn't even been opened from her previous move.) and she had planned on spending a good few days unpacking.

Though she felt it unnecessary, Riza decided to accept Roy's offer to assist with her move back into her flat in East City. (Though she really didn't have many items to move.) He had seemed so eager to help.

She hadn't expected him to arrive at her flat with his hands already full, however.

Roy stood in the doorway, a rectangular box beneath one arm and a wrapped bouquet of flowers in the other. He proffered the flowers and she took them with a sigh.

"Colonel, I appreciate the thought, but, I've told you before, I don't really have any place to put them."

He merely smiled, "That is why I brought _this_." He held out the box, opening it to reveal a simple glass vase. "I guess you could consider it a house-warming gift."


	27. Travels

_1917 (Post manga)_

It's early spring but it's still warm enough to feel the heat to rising from the concrete surface of the train platform.

Winry ruffles his hair and his brother, surprisingly, quickly hugs him with a, "Take care, little bro. Stay safe. And if you guys get the chance to see that idiot emperor while you're traveling in Xing, tell him he still owes me money."

"Please be careful, Al. Don't… don't go getting yourself into trouble, okay?" Winry adds.

"I'll be fine!" Al laughs, "Jeez, you guys can really be worrywarts. Thanks, though… I'll really miss both of you so much."

He turns, suitcase in hand, before he can see their faces - Ed probably with that half-proud, half-sad look and Winry on the verge of tears…

Al heaves a sigh and resolutely boards the train.


	28. Awkward

_Wrote this for my super awesome friend, Margo!_

_(Set post manga) (Falman seems to be continuing his work at Briggs, so I like to think that Maria Ross may be working more with Team Mustang.)_

* * *

The sharp corners of records were digging awkwardly into her spine, her back pressing into the book case.

Riza didn't mind it too much - as she was far too preoccupied with unfastening the buttons of Roy's uniform and shirt as his mouth moved over hers, hot and insistent in the darkness.

He smelled faintly of aftershave and sweat, a steady warmth wrapping around her.

"We don't have much time…" She gasped, momentarily breaking free.

"Well, then let's make the best of it, Lieutenant." Roy murmured against her lips and she quickly found herself not quite caring about their morning schedule, tugging off his obstructing garments haphazardly as she pushed her own mouth against his.

Her hands swept over his chest, around his neck and into his hair and he deepened their kiss. His own fingers lifting and brushing beneath her shirt, tracing up her skin to her ribs, and going farther.

Riza shivered against him. She could almost see that infernal smirk of his as he ran his tongue along her neck and she wanted nothing more but to kiss it away and leave him breathless.

So she took his face in her hands and did just that.

Soon, her legs were around his waist, his arms holding them firm, an almost frantic fervor growing between them as they moved against each other.

At a quarter after ten they exited the archive room, clothing and hair in place. Riza with clipboard in hand as she followed in his wake on their way to the offices.

"Now, about those radicals stirring up trouble north of us…" Roy was saying as they entered. Riza stopped him, however, tugging at his collar. He trailed off and he stood blinking at her.

"Your lapel pin had fallen off, Sir." She explained, calmly straightening his collar and walking on.

Breda didn't even bother with looking up from his paperwork, but Havoc buried his head in his arms with a tiny groan and Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Fuery seemed to be doing their level best to not stare at their commanding officers.

"Ah. Thank you, Lieutenant." Roy said, and continued with his speech.


	29. Forever

_Sort of depressing Roy/Riza fic I wrote half a year ago! Still not too happy with this drabble but blah._

_Set just post-Ishval._

* * *

It's been a few years.

The smooth skin of her back, threads of brown lines twisting, intersecting and arcing in a nauseating display.

Over the curve of her shoulder she glances back at him, eyes blank, and it reminds him of a far-away desert street filled with rubble and a woman staring sightlessly up at the pale sky with her red eyes, red blood spilling from her stomach to the stone beneath her.

He wants to wince. Bury his face in his hands. But he pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes away the thought, letting it fall to the edges of his mind where other similar thoughts wait.

Clearly, she is aware of what he saw, but she says nothing. Her own brown eyes watch him with slight recognition, and the dark circles under them are telltale signs that she, too, experiences the same.

They both have not been sleeping well since they got back and they will probably never sleep well again.

Dark circles are the only things that will disappear eventually with time.

When he finally decides on an area, he presses his fingers against her through gloved hands.


	30. New Year

_Sort of in the same vein as my "Rain" drabble. I think the characters might celebrate some forms of New Year? (Xingese and Amestrian New Years are probably a few months apart.) (Chinese New Year, basically, marks the end of the winter season with the start of the first of the 24 solar terms.)_

_(The Amestrian date system seems to have been organized around the founding of the country, but they do use a form of a Julian (Roman) calendar - obviously without Christian influence.)_

_Anyway! A quickly-churned out, not well-thought-out late-night fic for the holidays and New Year. Might delete later?_

* * *

Pinako had long since left for bed, but the three lounged at the kitchen table, a bit sick with coffee and chocolate, playing cards scattered about.

Al glanced up from the table where he was resting his head and gave a contented sigh. Ed balanced his chair on two legs, half a horehound stick between his teeth. Winry appeared to be dozing, head buried in her arms upon the table, but she opened her eyes to glance at the window out at the darkened sky.

She blinked once, then poked Ed, who nearly toppled and righted his chair.

"Look!" Winry sat up, eyes wide.

"It's snowing!" Al grinned.

The three watched as thick flakes swept across the glass panes. Just as the pendulum clock on the wall chimed twelve.

"Happy 1916!" Ed exclaimed and they toasted with their near-empty mugs, then ran outside and down the steps into the night, whooping and giggling.

* * *

It rarely snowed in East City, but tiny pebbles dotted the street after a brief storm. The two had remained late at the offices and had forgotten that cabs weren't quite as readily available at all times out east as they had been in Central.

So they walked quickly beneath the yellow glow of streetlights, wrapped tightly in their warm, winter jackets, huddling together.

The moon appeared through the cloud cover above and they slowed to look at it, breath misting in the still air.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" Roy said, attempting to break the silence. His words were drowned out, though, by the nearby tolling of a clock tower.

Riza took his cold hands in her own and drew him close, her warm lips briefly meeting his.

"Happy New Year, Colonel." She said with a satisfied smile and walked on.

(Although she had to wait a moment for him to stop staring and catch up.)


End file.
